God vs Man Day vs Night
by Batman Murdock Kent
Summary: My interpretation of the plot behind the upcoming Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. Rated T for now, though may become M later on. Done from the POV of Batman and Superman.


Bruce Wayne POV

I am forty-two years old. For twenty years, I fought for my city. I waged a war with the shadows of humanity by turning those shadows on the vermin who tried to prey on others. Criminals, rapists, murderers, gang bangers, they are all a superstitious and cowardly lot. They took away my parents, my childhood, they took away the light from my life. They plunged me in darkness. And in the darkness, I found the answer. So I trained. I have spent my life to make sure that no other boy will have is world ripped away from him, because of some punk with a gun. But, every war has to end. I was thirty-five when Jason was killed. He deserved better. He just wanted to help me, to fight for what was right, and that maniac killed him. Beaten with a crowbar, tortured with knives, strapped to a bomb. He was presented to me, with spray paint on his body. He was taken too soon, and his end was horrific. His death, it followed me.

Then, came Barbara. Looking back on it, it was remarkable similar to Jason. The same maniac, the same horrific laugh; the same remarkable young person who gave everything to help me try and change things in Gotham. She didn't die, she was just paralyzed, but for her, a gymnast, an acrobat, the young woman who used to love to run around with Dick over the streets, confined to a wheel chair. It was another death.

Her father, my friend, one of the few I had, wasn't killed by the clown. Instead, he tried to help me. I had been cornered by Dent. I had been shot through one of my lungs. I heard Jim burst through the door, revolver in hand. I heard him make his way toward Dent heard him command him to get on the ground. He had every right to shoot, but Jim never shot unless he had to. I always respected that about him. Then, I saw Dent's left hand, he flipped his coin with it. And I knew this was my chance. I ran at him, I had to get to him before that coin came down. I didn't make it. The coin fell. The gun went off. Jim fell down. I broke Dent's Jaw. I stumbled over to his body as he bled out. Ashes, ashes…

I retired that night. Had I made a difference? Yes, but at what cost? Criminals in the city look over their shoulder the minute the sun went down. Every piece of filth that preyed on the good people of Gotham would jump at there own shadows at night. The scum think I lurk in every unlit shadow, waiting to strike. They all feel fear because of what I have done. But what was I left with? Twenty years in Gotham, and how many good guys were left? Dick went on to Bludhaven. Tim went off soon after that. They should have been normal boys, they should have gone to college, gotten married, had kids of their own. But they don't have any of that. Instead, they spend their night's flipping off of roofs and beating up thugs, because of me. Barbara is still in a wheel chair. She now provides information to others; she still tries to fight evil even when that evil took her legs from her. She is fatherless, and paralyzed because of me. My parents have been dead for thirty-six years. I could have saved them. I wanted to explore the city as a child, so we took that alley when we could have just gone around the theatre to the car park. They are dead because of me. I've vowed to never kill. But, by taking up the cape and the cowl to fight criminals, I've hurt or killed so many good people. It was too much. There had been other tragedies. Bane had launched an attack on me at my home. He burned it to the ground, my family's legacy. It hurt to see that, but it wasn't Wayne manor that made me Batman, or Bruce Wayne. And it wasn't what made me stop. The names of Thomas and Martha Wayne made me become Batman. The names of Jim Gordon, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd…they made me retire.

I told myself I could still do well. I had enough money to fund a country; I could use that to change things. Instead of using the fists of Batman, I would use the finances of Bruce Wayne. That is what brought me to Metropolis. I visited Wayne Financial Tower, one of the more profitable towers that had been constructed that bear's my Father's name. It had been two years of living as just Bruce Wayne. Two years of increased philanthropy. Two years of actually sleeping eight hours a night, of trying to move on. I had given millions to charities, to the Jim Gordon police charity, which I created, to work for a better-trained, less corrupt, and better equipped Gotham Police Department. I gave money to Arkham, in the vain hope they would increase security. But that one day in Metropolis, it changed everything. It showed me the cruel fantasy I had constructed for myself.

I had spent twenty years convincing the criminals of Gotham that I was indestructible, bulletproof, that I was vengeance, that I was the night. I convinced them that I could see through walls, that I could fly. And here were two men, fighting above me, in Metropolis who could both do those things. All that power, and what did they do with it? They didn't fight for the people; they didn't help others, fight crime or tyranny. They fought each other, over some useless power struggle. Two aliens, fighting over some petty politics that have nothing to do with us. The one in black fired lasers from his eyes, and he destroyed Wayne Financial Tower. How many times do I have to see my Father's name be destroyed? I yelled instructions to Alfred as I saw the building fall. I ran toward the destruction, fighting the urge to breathe in the dust, trying to find anyone alive. I only found one little girl, out of the countless dozens or hundreds of people that had been in the Tower. I held her, and I will never forget what she said to me.

While I held her close, she just repeated in my ear over and over again, "Mommy and Daddy are dead, Mommy and Daddy are dead, Mommy and Daddy are dead."

I looked up, and I saw him fly away, his red cape trailing behind him. It turns out he had killed the other alien he had been fighting with. Since then he has helped many people. He saved the astronauts from what could have been a tragedy at a recent launch. And, when there was massive flooding in Nebraska, one woman said he descended to save them like an angel. But when I looked up, that day in Metropolis, I did not feel hope. I felt anger. No matter what he does, he has to answer for the lives he destroyed at Metropolis. He has to answer for that little girl who won't grow up with her parents. He destroyed one of the most prosperous and populated cities in the world within half an hour. He's too dangerous to be ignored, but he's also too dangerous to underestimate.

I need to learn more about him. I need to learn if he really is on the side of the angels. And if not, I need to put him down.


End file.
